She's with the Band
by cheaterinpink
Summary: There're only a few times when Troy feels this good. When they're playing live to an enthusiastic crowd. When her fingers slide into his, under the stars. When she's got her tongue down his throat. She's the peanut to his butter. Everyone knows that.
1. mess in our hands

**She's with the Band  
**_Preface_

_Like walking into a dream,  
so unlike what you've seen__  
_**- Afterlife, Avenged Sevenfold**

"We need a new singer," Chad states firmly, before forcing an unholy number of chips into his mouth.

Troy nods, tapping his cigarette against the railing. He watches the ash fall.

"Jason's terrible. No offense dude, but he can't sing." He talks with his mouth open. Jason makes a face.

"Nice. I love it when you refer to me in third person."

"I don't see what '_star quality'_ you saw in him," Chad goes on, licking the cheese off his fingers, "He's got as much as a starfish."

"I can hear you," Jason whines.

"Did you know starfish don't have brains?"

Troy lifts the cigarette to his lips, taking a deep whiff. It's in the middle of Chad and Jason's bickering that he sees her.

Her red checker shorts barely peek out from underneath her oversized black t-shirt. It has the words 'Three Days Grace' stamped on it.

He chokes on the smoke, hacking up a ball of metaphoric fur.

Chad thumps him on the back with unnecessary force. His fingers are now lined with cheese and saliva. "You okay dude?"

"Get off me," he rasps.

Chad thumps harder. "Harder please? With plea –"

"He said 'get off me'," Jason interrupts helpfully before flipping to a page of some book on a crazy fireman who didn't want to set fires to books anymore.

"Shut up, Jase," Chad yells. Jason shrugs.

"Anyway," Chad continues, finally stopping, "We need a new singer. You can sing but you're doing drums already. I would sing but I'm playing guitar." The look on his face resembles that of a sad puppy when he discovers the Doritos bag is all empty.

"The only thing you can sing is Ave Maria," Troy growls, without looking at him.

Jason snickers.

"I sing it well. Better than Jason sings the SpongeBob song."

"Hey," Jason shoots back, "That's current. And manly. What _manly_ guy covers Ave Maria?"

Chad lunges at Jason.

She's wearing a pair of sunglasses on the back of her head.

Mrs. Darbus, the wacky homeroom teacher with glasses that could hold a thousand tears, walks by then. "Troy, tackle those two goofballs, would you?" She pats his shoulder twice, snatching his cigarette away with nimble, wrinkled fingers, before disappearing into the building.

"Who's she?" Troy asks, following her with his eyes. He knows everyone. Except maybe not today.

Chad wipes his forehead before attempting a seventh punch at Jason. As with all the others, Jason sidesteps it, all without looking away from his book.

"What girl?"

She's got a guitar strapped to her back, and her bag's plastered over with colourful badges.

Troy nods in her direction. Jason looks up, getting smacked by Chad's flying fingers in the process.

"OW. Thanks Chad." He rubs his jaws, glaring painful paintballs at him.

"My pleasure," Chad says, huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf. He leans back against the railing.

She's probably the most petite girl he's ever seen.

"Who again?" Jason asks, looking around. Troy nods again.

"Oh – her. That's my step-sister."

His neck twists so fast he thinks he might get a cramp.

"Your – sister?" He sounds strangled.

"Yeah..." Jason draws out the word, looking at a slumped Troy weirdly, "she's my _step_-sister. Didn't I tell you guys she was starting junior year here today?"

"Who, _who_?" asks an oblivious Chad.

The meaning of his words sinks in and, suddenly, he feels as attracted to her as he does to Ms. Darbus.

"You didn't tell me your sister was back in Albuquerque," Troy spits out violently. Everything makes as much sense as a pancake doing the banana dance. His world is spinning between black and white, and colour.

"For the third time, _step_-sister. And, I did," Jason insists, looking more and more bewildered. "What's wrong with you?"

"We need a new singer," Chad states.

"Shut up Chad!" Jason shouts, clenching his fists.

"No, _you_ shut up!" Chad retorts, brown face turning red.

He feels all the energy in him draining out in a second. His sudden robot-likeness catches Jason's attention.

"Are you okay?" Jason asks hesitantly.

Just then, like a shadow creeping into the light, the girl pops up behind Jason. "Hey Jase!"

"Argh –" Troy screams, falling backwards into the wall. The entire school turns to look at him.

Jason's sister, brown silky hair and all, raises an eyebrow at him. "I'm surprised you're not gay, Jase. Your friends sure are... appealing."

"_Sheesh_," Jase groans, running a hand over his face tiredly.

"So, introduce me!" she says, smiling. Chad's practically drooling, looking her up and down like she's some playboy magazine, and it makes Troy sick.

She's supposed to be in New York. Many states away. Supposed to be nerdy looking, with ugly braces and frizzy hair and terrible fashion sense and bad breath and scarring acne and –

"Guys, this is Gabriella Montez, my _step_-sister" - as Jason shoots a meaningful glare at Troy, he sinks back further into the wall, feeling slightly nauseous - "The one with the atrocious afro is Chad. The one hugging the wall's Troy."

It's almost like a bullet train drives right into his stomach at that very moment. He doesn't want to look at her, but his eyes flicker to her face inadvertently. Her surprise is palpable.

"Wait. Troy... Bolton?" She points at him, bemused.

"Yep," Jason says, looking between the two. "Do you know each other?"

The look on her face – abrupt realisation morphing into a mixture of disbelief and disgust and... _hurt _– forces him to look away. The memories from four years ago slam into him, playing out like a six-dollar movie. He can't move.

Her answer surprises him. "No," she states, voice unwavering. He can't help it; he glances at her. Even her character's different.

"No, we don't." She shakes her head, jaw tight, before smiling at Jason as if nothing ever happened.

"I'll see you later."

Troy releases the breath he was holding as soon as she brushes by him.

"What was _that _all about?" Jason asks, waving his arms in the air. "You guys were acting so weird. Are you sure you two don't know each other?"

"We don't," Troy barely manages to say.

He hears her footsteps before her cutting words. "You seriously _suck _Troy."

The tiny girl of five feet two punches him in the guts. With no forewarning, he crumples to the ground, groaning. His vision shakes like a branch in a tornado, and then the only thing he sees are her brown eyes. They look the same - a brown imitating black. He smells crisp vanilla in the air.

"I can't _believe_ you!" she shrieks, "Have a totally _nice_ life, asswipe. Goddammit. Go screw yourself." Furious, she stomps off.

_She's really filled out_, is all he can think, besides the raging pain.

"What was _that_ all about?" Jason wails. "You guys know each other, _don't _you?"

"Yeah, we do," Troy spits, trying to sit up. Failing epically.

He can't believe she looks so different.

"How? _How_?" Jason looks like he's going to wet himself. "You don't know each other! You _can't_ know each other."

"We were best friends in the eighth grade," Troy tries to explain. He can't find the right words to describe it.

"Why?" Jason fumes, looking like it's the end of the world. "Are you seriously _dumb_ or something? Do you really _only_ have fifty-two brain cells in your – I tried to convince myself that you weren't as _dumb_ as I thought you were for the past three years but – I can't _believe_ you – who makes friends with a _girl_ in the eighth grade? Friendships don't _last_ in the eighth grade!"

"Hey, I knew Troy since we were two. We're bros, man." Chad looks put out.

"That's an exception," Jason snaps, quivering. Chad rolls his eyes.

"How did I not know about this?"

Troy closes his eyes, really tired. "She went off to boarding school before you came to East High. Remember? I guess she never told you about our... friendship."

Jason looks like he's about to pass out. For a long moment, nobody speaks.

"If she hates you, can I go for her?" Chad pipes up just before the warning bell goes. "She's got a _great _rack."

Jason lunges at Chad, snarling.

--

**a/n: i'm just sick and tired about the serious lack of good band fics on fanfiction and fictionpress. or, just, band fics that i want to read, in general. **_**sick**_**, i tell you.  
****i know it doesn't look like a band fic yet, but from the title – obviously, it is.**


	2. a fallen angel

**She's with the band  
**_Chapter One_

_There she goes again,  
__Pulsing through my veins  
_**- There she goes, Sixpence None the Richer**

Before last week, he could pretend that he had no recollection of who Gabriella Montez was.

"_Hey, Troy, watch out!"_

Before, he would have associated her with dying monkeys and the plague. _That's_ how unhygienic she was.

The football goes whirling through the air, right at him. _Thunk_.

Now, all he can think about when he sees her, even when he hears her name, is that he _wants to ask her out._

"Dude, are you okay?" Chad waves a hand over his face. The sun glares behind him.

Troy groans, rubbing the back of his head.

"That is not a face I want to see this early in the morning."

"I know right – Jason, Troy agrees with me! Your face sucks!"

He wishes he was holding a hammer at that moment and that his license to kill was valid.

Jason rolls his eyes.

"Just leave me alone," Troy mutters, forcing himself up. Chad snatches up the football and throws it to Ryan, who's at least forty metres away. It nearly hits his sister, Sharpay, who's scantily clad in a translucent top that bares the bikini top beneath, and shorts that imitate panties. She laughs daintily at guys who stare.

"Troysie," she coos, wrapping an arm smoothly around his neck and pressing up against him.

"Hi Sharpay," he greets feebly.

"So, you coming to Jackson's party tonight?" she asks, running her fingers through his hair. "I'll be there," she adds, glancing up at him from behind fake eyelashes.

He clears his throat, which is hard to do with her practically unzipping his jeans.

"Uh, I've got... band practice," he mutters. Her hands wander around his waist.

Sharpay does that pout that makes her thighs look fat (but she doesn't know that) and leans up to whisper in his ears. "Too bad. I had... plans for us. Involving a bed" – her free hand drops onto his shoulder at that moment – "No lights. And _no_ _clothes_."

She watches his Adam's apple bounce, grinning.

"Too bad," Troy manages, unimpressed.

"I'll see you some other night then." She uncoils herself with a snake's grace and struts off. He lets out a sigh.

She mistakes it for uncontained glee.

Troy shakes his head, running his hands through his hair to rid himself of her dead skin cells. His eyes wander to his friends playing football and that's when his breath halts. He makes headway for Chad.

She notices him coming almost as soon as he notices her with Chad.

"You look more basketball than football."

Mentally, she rolls her eyes as he flexes his muscles. "I play both."

He's failing to impress her, but he doesn't know it.

"Cool. My sport is guitar."

"Yeah, well, I breathe guitar," Chad presses.

"_Really?_ I breathe oxygen."

Troy slaps a hand onto Chad's shoulder, hiding clenched teeth behind a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Hey – what's going on here?"

She thinks, _can he be any more obvious?_

Well, he was always like that. And she used to be naive.

Chad is hyperventilating. "I don't know – she says she loves guitar but doesn't breathe it! What's _wrong_ with her?"

"What's _right_ with you?" the 'her' in question shoots back.

Troy lets out breath through his mouth. "Why don't you take a break under that tree, Chad? The shade clears minds like an eraser."

Chad dashes off happily to a tree a mile and a half away.

"I'm not talking to you, you know." She turns around and walks away. He runs after her.

"You just did," he points out.

When she doesn't speak for a few more moments, he decides he needs divine intervention.

"What are you – doing?" she gasps, stumbling backwards as he kisses the side of her mouth. Really, he was aiming for everything but she turned at the last second.

"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

He tries again, praying to get it right; she breaks free of his grasp and slaps him. His head snaps to the right comically.

"_What the hell?"_ She tries to slap him again but he's ready for it. He brings her captured hand to his chest.

"That was an act of God." He hopes his growl is husky and sexy enough.

Her eyes are so wild that he feels a kick in his leg. Or maybe that was just her foot.

"Yeah, well, that was an act of God too," she spits. Silently, though, she thinks his heart beat beneath her palm is making her world rock.

"Why do you hate me so much?" The words spill from his lips like forgotten wine and he can't take the words back. He wishes Chad would tackle him from behind now.

She tries to get an elbow into his abdomen but he switches tactic, dragging her to the ground. She lets out a quiet _'oof'_ as 180 pounds of drum boy lands on her.

Secretly, he doesn't want her going for his nuts next. Unless they're on a bed.

"Do you _really_ have to ask that question?" she groans, teeth glued to one another. "Isn't it _obvious_?"

He can feel the contour of her hips under his stomach. If he were a dog, he'd be wagging his tail.

"We were young back then," he insists. She manages to jam her knee into his shin. He sucks in a tight breath, the sound of it delighting her.

"Yeah, and _stupid_. I should have known you were going to let me down."

She notes, with surprise, that his voice breaks when he speaks next. She convinces herself it's all an act.

"Yeah, I'm sorry... about that."

"You should be." She lifts her chin in defiance. She looks like a fallen angel.

"I don't... think that way anymore." Troy ploughs on into unknown territory. "I want to ask you out right now."

_Wrong words_, he thinks, as she wrestles a hand out from his grasp and socks him.

"_Jerk!"_

"A handsome jerk though," he amends, rubbing his jaw.

She can't help it; a giggle slips out. Admonished, she lets out a slew of words that would make a mother faint.

"You only want to because I look _nothing_ like I did four years back." Her face crumples for a second. She wears the same look she had on when her mother died.

"Not true," he tries, even though they both know he's lying.

"Just stop screwing me over, okay Troy? You've screwed me enough already." She comes back with renewed anger.

He switches topics, asking her if she's going to the party Jackson's throwing.

"Why, so we can get a room and drink each other's spit?" she snaps.

She takes the bright red flush on his cheeks as confirmation. "Bastard," she mutters under her breath.

A raven caws as it flies overheard. She sighs, trying to wriggle out of his grip. He's steadfast.

"Get off me," she snarls. Pleading would be too pathetic.

"It was cheesy, wasn't it?"

"What was? Everything you've been doing since you saw me again has been downright annoying." She hopes he hurts as much as she does.

"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" he repeats. "Cheesy right?" He cracks a grin.

She rolls her eyes. "How cliché. You have as much charm as a starfish."

"Funny. Did you know starfish don't have brains?"

"Perfectly describes you," she points out in a clipped tone.

"Give me another shot."

He holds her gaze till she looks away.

"I can't."

Chad pinches Troy as he watches her walk away. "Knock knock."

"Who's there?" Troy asks tiredly.

"No one!" Chad yells brightly, knocking Troy's forehead for emphasis. "No one's home!"

"Great one Chad." Jason shares a withering look with Troy.

--

**a/n: i didn't realise how bloody short this was until i uploaded it. huh.**


	3. the real genesis

**She's with the Band  
**_Chapter two_

_You're poison running through my veins,  
__You're poison; I don't want to break these chains  
_**- Poison, Alice Cooper**

The clock speaks; it's only seven thirteen.

She strums her guitar softly, trying out a random series of chords. When she finds one she particularly likes, she writes it down on her lyrics sheet. The New York song-writing competition closes in two weeks.

She would have gotten her entry done earlier if it hadn't been for all the moving.

Tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear, she reads what she's already composed.

_I'm just a little confused  
__I don't know which way to turn  
__You're not letting me know  
__Just give me a sign_

_Take away  
__Do whatever you said  
__Steal my thoughts and  
__Erase the moments that count_

_So that I can't remember  
__What you and I had  
__If that was your goal,  
__Well, you've succeeded too well_

She bites her lip, pinning her fringe to her scalp with her left hand before groaning and crumpling the sheet into a ball. It sounds too... _cliché_. The kind of song Beyonce would sing.

She wants something simple, soulful, _real_. Something that looks badly written at first glance but opens up eyes to the meaning it holds inside. She sighs.

Just then, Jason comes tumbling through the door, guffawing with his friends. She ducks her head, stuffing her song book between her jacket and shirt, a nice warm place, and pretends to nibble on the Oreos with milk she prepared hours ago, which have now completely disintegrated.

"Hey Gabs," Jason greets overly jovially, sliding neatly onto the kitchen island. He steals her bowl and slurps down the gooey mix.

She makes a face. "Hey Jase. And Co," she adds, glancing at the other two boys leaning against the wall. "What are you doing here? Isn't Jackson's party on tonight?" She refuses to look at Troy.

"Yeah," Chad says, "it is, but we've got band practice. Besides, we've all got Sharpay-phobia."

She doesn't know who Sharpay and she doesn't care.

She perks up at the mention of the band. "Hey Jase, you never told me you were in a band!" She pats his shoulder in congratulations. "I never knew you had musical talent. I mean, besides playing the harmonica. In your dreams."

"Haha, very funny," Jason says, in a way that shows he doesn't think it's funny at all.

"You practice in the basement?"

"Affirmative," Chad states. Gabriella casts a bewildered glance in his direction. Before that moment, she didn't know Chad knew words with more than three syllables.

"Well, have fun." She gathers up her stuff, slinging her guitar onto her back as the guys move into the basement. It is only when she looks up does she realise she's not alone.

"Hey." Troy nods at her.

She gives him a flat-lipped smile before brushing past him and going up the stairs. His voice tugs her back.

"I'm sorry."

When she raises her eyebrows, he stammers, "For trying to kiss you. Earlier today."

She nods before continuing up the stairs. Troy watches her move round the bend before running a hand over his face and making his way to the other guys.

As soon as she is in her room, she puts her guitar gently down on her bed and loads her computer. Since her creative juices are totally not working at the moment, she'll listen to music. Jamming a compilation CD into her CD player, she checks her email (thirty two messages) as the keyboard note repeats itself before mixing with drum beats. Hoobastank's _The Reason_ fills the room with its loudness and she finds herself singing along as she reads an email from her best friend back in New York.

"_I'm not a perfect person, there's many things I wish I didn't do..."_

Her best friend, Samantha, Sam for short, has beautiful red hair, the kind she wishes she was born with, and the purest green eyes.

She tells Sam how her day went, how boring her new school is – it doesn't even have a proper musical department just crappy tweeny-boppy musicals, _blegh_ – and how she misses her. After sending it off, she deletes her spam and opens her iTunes.

_9034 songs._

Without realising it, she's begun singing along to _Call Me When You're Sober_, by _Evanescence_.

And, next thing she knows, the guys have tumbled in past her door, landing in a sorry heap on the floor.

"_That. Was. Amazing_," Jason states, utterly gobsmacked.

"What was?" she asks, bewildered.

"Your voice!" Chad yelps, holding his hands to his heart. "Like that of an Angel."

She raises an eyebrow dubiously, hand clutching the back of her chair. "_Out. Now_."

"You _have _to join our band," Jason implores, crawling over to her. Gabriella smacks his clapped hands away from her, getting up and shutting off the music.

"You guys have gone completely bonkos."

"What's so crazy about this idea, Gabriella?" Jason beseeches, "We want a _gig_, Gabriella. So, we _need _a good – no, _great_ – band."

Gabriella laughs, glancing at Chad. "Then why is Chad in it?" she jokes.

_"Hey!"_

"I have no idea." Jason dodges Chad's flying hands. "But, the point is – _OW! _– you need to join our band so that we can have... a pumpkin house."

"Huh?"

Jason pushes Chad's hands away from him, glowering at the smirking jackass. "What did I say? I wasn't thinking. This _idiot_ was _slapping_ me."

"You were saying you wanted a pumpkin house," she states dryly, smiling a little bit. Without thinking, she glances over at Troy and lifts her lips in a smile before returning her gaze to Jason.

"Well, a pumpkin house would be cool, that that's not the point. _The point is_ we need an awesome singer to perfect our band. You," – he points straight at his step-sister – "are the one."

"Right..." Gabriella drops back into her chair, slides over to her desk and starts on her Physics homework.

"Gabriel_la_!" Jason whines.

"Ja_son_!" she mimics.

"Don't make me beg."

She looks at him from the corner of her eyes before smirking just a tad bit.

"I'm begging you, don't make us beg," Chad chimes in. Everyone stares at him.

"That's so contradictory." Jason announces the obvious, scrunching up his eyebrows.

Gabriella finishes the third question. She taps her chin lightly, oblivious to Troy's quiet stare. "So, just wondering... are you guys actually any good?"

The guys' jaws snap open, hitting the floor.

"_Are we any good?"_ Chad cries, outraged. _"Are we any good?"_

"Gabriella... I am so disappointed in you," - Jason shakes his head - "And I thought you had an IQ of 180."

"No, Jase, that's you. You're the nerd in the family."

He grumbles under his breath.

"If you don't believe us, watch us." Troy's calm voice finally joins in the conversation. She glances at him before dismissing him, going back to her work.

"Yeah, come watch us!" Chad spits out excitedly.

"If you guys can't see, I'm kind of busy –"

Before she knows it, she's being dragged out of her room, down the stairs and into the basement.

"Watch us?" Jason asks again, looking at her hopefully.

"If you try to run, we've got mean methods of torture. The Ninjas taught them to us." Chad demonstrates a kick before gripping his leg. "Ow... _cramp_..."

"I'm _so _impressed." Rolling her eyes, she nods curtly before watching them get into position. She folds her arms over her chest, gripping the sides of her jacket. The basement is sort of dim – probably for dramatic effect, she thinks. Troy shouts, _"A one... a one, two, three, four!"_ And then the band hits it.

Jason plays the bass like his life depends on it, hands flying all over the strings.

She watches as Chad does all these excellent riffs, riffs she too can play. Surprisingly, his afro suits the song and makes him look a rock star, though she knows he's far from it.

And Troy... She's almost scared to raise her eyes to his form. In the glow of the lights, he's moving everywhere, slamming the sticks around with such speed and grace that he's simply poetry in motion.

And all the guys wear grins on their faces, loving what they're doing.

_This is the kind of band I want to join_, she thinks all of a sudden. They're totally deviating from the song they are covering, improvising as it goes along. Like magic, it all falls into place.

When Troy finishes the last note, they all take several deep breaths before looking up towards Jason's step-sister. Troy swipes the sweat off his forehead, grinning slightly.

"Could have been better," she comments lightly, shrugging.

_"Could have been better?"_ Chad asks incredulously, _"Could have been better?"_ He jumps up, pointing an accusing finger. Gabriella nods, acting all nonchalant. She looks down at her nails.

"Gabriella – that was _awesome!_" Jason argues, chest heaving from the fun. "You can't dispute that."

Troy studies her as she lifts her face for them to see the wide smile on it. It damn near takes his breath away.

"Of _course _that was awesome!" she cries, running to hug her brother. "That was the most fun I've ever had watching a band perform. Why _aren't _you guys playing live already?"

"Because our previous singer bailed on us," Chad states sourly. When she turns to him, he opens his arms wide, pout transforming into a beam.

"Do I get a hug too?"

"You wish." Gabriella smiles, showing her teeth. She doesn't even glance at Troy.

"So, will you join us?" Jason asks, jumping on the soles of his feet. "You _have _to! Your voice is perfect for our band."

"Um..." Troy watches Gabriella bite the side of her lip, unsure. Her bangs fall over her eyes slightly and he notices her eyes flickering over to him. Their gazes meet for a short moment before she looks away pointedly.

Honestly, she'd join in a heartbeat if not for Troy standing just five feet away from her.

"This isn't because of Troy, is it?" Chad asks. Everyone looks at him, surprised. He's never proven himself to be intelligent before, besides _'affirmative'_. "Because, if it is, we can just kick him out."

"Gee, thanks," Troy mutters, rolling his eyes.

Gabriella isn't that mean, and he knows it. Despite her trying to nail him in the nuts, anyway.

"Do you only do covers?"

"Nah, we write some lame-o shit too," Chad pipes up before Jason can open his mouth.

"What Chad _means_," Jason says, shooting him a look as Gabriella's eyes narrow, "is that we do try writing songs. But we're only good at composing the music. We really suck at the lyrics."

"That's perfect then. Gabriella writes lyrics."

Gabriella glances at Troy, surprised. He's looking straight at her and something in his eyes makes her shiver.

"Awesome!" Chad shouts, whooping, and high-fives Jason's head. "You have to join, Gabster!"

"_Gabster?" _Gabriella asks dubiously.

"Why the heck not?" Chad shoots back, running a hand over the strings. The simple movement reminds her why she loves music.

"So... will you join?" The room is suddenly quiet.

"Sure," Gabriella agrees. As the guys all high-five one another, she smiles a little smile. "Why the heck not?"

--

It's ten thirty-six. The guys and Gabriella are hanging in the living room, the end credits of _Kill Bill_ rolling up the screen.

Somehow, Troy's right beside her despite her making sure that they were far, far away at the beginning of the movie. She starts to get up.

"Friends?" Troy whispers, touching her wrist.

_Is he trying to check her pulse?_ She can't help but think.

She shakes her head.

When he waits a moment before letting go, she knows it's not over.

--

**a/n: alice cooper is a guy. yeah, i know. weird.  
****the song's been covered by groove coverage, to the extent of my knowledge.  
****And yeah, i wrote the song that gabriella 'wrote'. it's not copied from anywhere. it kind of sucks, i know.**


	4. gigging up

**She's with the Band  
**_Chapter Three_

_I'll be there for you 'cause you're there for me too_  
**- I'll be there for you, the Rembrants (Friends theme song)**

She steps lightly into a puddle, spinning around a couple of times. Her skirt lifts in the wind, just a bit, and he swallows as her milky skin shows. She's like a ballerina out there, and he likes to think she's dancing for him.

"So, what's there to do in a small town like Al-bu-quer-que?" she asks, drawing out the last word, as she walks backwards.

Kelsi laughs a little as her new friend slips a bit and wets the sides of her sneakers.

"There's the skate park. And the old folks' home. The library. The lake. Um, school?"

Gabriella rolls her eyes at the last one, tugging at the straw in her smoothie. "Well, what do _you_ do?"

"I go to the grocery store."

At Gabriella's raised eyebrows, Kelsi swings her arms and elaborates. "While I would love to say that the manager is _extremely_ fun, not to mention _easy_, to annoy, the real reason is that I'm a total health maniac."

"Um..." Gabriella murmurs, pursing her lips and blinking rapidly. "Right." Then, all of a sudden, she grabs Kelsi's hand and breaks out into a run.

"What are you doing?" Kelsi asks, totally bewildered, as Gabriella drags her around the corner.

"Just wanted to feel the adrenaline," Gabriella states, grinning toothily before proceeding to suck at her smoothie.

"Okay," Kelsi replies, "Not weird at all."

"So," Gabriella goes on, as if Kelsi hadn't said a thing, "tell me again why the drama club is so short of people? Acting is the best thing in the world."

"Well, for one, the neanthe-dorks in this school think drama is a waste of time and completely nerdy." She watches Gabriella tilt her head and stick out her tongue in an attempt to catch a drop of rain. "Second – the teachers themselves discourage their students from joining the drama club. With the exception of Mrs. Darbus, of course."

"Now, why would anyone do a stupid thing like that?"

Kelsi shrugs. "They think Mrs. Darbus is an immortal psychopath who devours little babies and dumb teens to gain life force. Or that she's going to bewitch the student body into bringing pet pigs to school. I don't know."

"Nice one," Gabriella praises, looking quite impressed.

"Thanks."

By then, they reach Jason's house. Gabriella starts up the path, turning around after a few steps. Raising the hand holding the smoothie, she asks expectantly, "You coming?"

Kelsi stares past her and Gabriella turns to see. Through the un-curtained (if such a word existed) window, she can see her step-brother, shirtless she would add later on drily, playing some X-box game with an afro-ed guy. Only one guess who it was.

Shaking her head slightly, she turns back to her friend. "Do you, maybe, have a crush on my step-brother?"

Kelsi snaps back to reality upon hearing the mild amusement in Gabriella's voice. "Of c-course not. Why would you think such a thing?"

If her nervous twiddling of thumbs and shifting of eyes fail to tip her off, she doesn't know what will. But Gabriella only smiles knowingly before repeating her first question. Kelsi shakes her head, patting her bag. "I should be getting home. Tonnes of homework. Tonnes of chores. Switch lives with me?"

"I would but society would look down on ravaging my step-brother, I think."

Kelsi's face turns a bright red alarmingly fast. It kinds of scares Gabriella, truth be told.

"See ya," Gabriella says, chuckling under her breath. "Oh, before I forget, sign me up for the drama club." Kelsi smiles tightly before scampering away.

"Gabriella, welcome to Albuquerque," she mutters under her breath, retrieving her key from her pocket. "And, isn't it delightful to refer to yourself in third person."

* * *

"Okay, what local gigs are up for grabs?" Gabriella asks later that night, when it's just the boys (including Troy, _urgh_) and her at the kitchen island.

"There are only a few clubs that allow under-eighteens to even enter, let alone perform in," Jason starts.

"Anyone want to order Chinese take-out?" Chad interrupts, rubbing his stomach. "I'm kind of hungry and if one of you wants take-out too, you can pay for me."

"And what makes you think anyone wants to get Chinese take-out now, after that?" Gabriella asks drily.

"Jesus gives me hope," Chad states staunchly, crossing his arms and sticking his chin out at her.

"Anyways, I've got a list of them." Jason pulls out said list from his pocket and smoothes its crumpled form out on the table. Gabriella leans forward to read through it.

**Four Leaves Irish Pub**  
**The Squeaky Cauldron**  
**Love Strikes Again**  
**Jack's Beer**

"Okay, one, what is with the Harry Potter reference?"

"What Harry Potter reference?" Jason asks, eyebrows drawing together.

"You know, my tummy's telling me it wants shrimp noodles and fortune cookies. And when it gets grumpy, I get grumpy. I do not like resorting to childish five-year-old screaming and excessive tantrum-throwing but I will resort to it if none of you forks out twenty bucks."

"The Squeaky Cauldron," Troy says incredulously. "You know, like the Leaky Cauldron."

Gabriella expects Troy to think this to be an epic bonding moment, where two people who think the other completely odious and ergo do not get along suddenly realise they do have common interests and, fingers snapped, fall in love and kiss on an open field under a trillion stars. But this is no Sleeping Beauty or Snow White. She rolls her eyes.

"No, I don't know," Jason replies snarkily.

"One..." Chad warns.

"Two, Love Strikes Again sounds like some gay pub for, like, people above sixty."

"Actually, it is," Jason replies. "For homosexual people, yes. Not age- discriminatory, I think. But I think it'd be bigotry if we chose to eliminate a possible gig option because of the kind of audience we'd be getting."

"Oh, great, I joined a band that targets grandfathers, whom I might add contribute significantly to the Huggies diapers industry earnings, with the hopeful objective of helping them relive their younger times. We aren't playing 60's music, you know?"

"They aren't all old," Jason defends.

"Two... On three, I let out an epic amount of fart."

"Fine, grandfathers and their nephews and the fourth generation. Point is, that should be our last option."

"Whatever," Jason mutters.

"Two and a half... Guys, I really don't want to have to hurt you."

"His gas can actually knock you out," Troy agrees.

"So, it's either a club full of luck, a Harry Potter fanatic club, a gay pub or a normal sounding joint for the major drinkaholics. I vote for the last one."

"A club full of luck?" Jason frowns.

"Two and three-quarters..."

"You're being discriminatory," Jason scolds. "There's nothing wrong with luck or Harry Potter – what is that by the way? A kind of galaxy or a kind of remote Scandinavian method of creating energy? – or homosexuals."

Gabriella feels like face-palming someone nearby. Any of the guys will do, really. "You seriously don't know what Harry Potter is?"

"If it's some era in Homo Sapien history, tell me! Don't make me feel dumb!" Jason pleads.

"Okay, three. I'm sorry but I warned you all –"

"Ah, shut up, I'll pay," Troy interrupts, thoroughly disgruntled, shoving four five dollar bills across the island. Chad yelps with glee, snatching up the money before hopping over to the cordless phone.

"You're still stuck in some obsolete era, you numb-brain," Gabriella shoots back. "You know what, I'm going up. The teachers are trying to kill me paper-style within the first week of school. So not environmentally friendly. So, when you decide which pub slash club you wanna play for, send the butler up and I'll deal." With that, she turns on her heel and jogs up the stairs, leaving two blinking boys and one over-enthusiastic Chinese-takeout-ordering boy in her wake.

"What's got her panties in a twist?" Troy asks, confused.

"Tell me what Harry Potter is!" Jason yells, grabbing Troy's hoodie by the front, "Is it some spare part of Sputnik? Or some ilk of laundry service? Or a character on Vampire Diaries?"

"EW, you watch that stuff?" Chad screams, scandalised, pointing at Jason in horror. A voice crackles over the phone.

"Oh, no, not you stupid; I was talking to my friend. He's a guy and he watches Vampire Diaries! Oh my gosh... oh my gosh, you watch the Vampire Diaries too? Isn't it great? I mean, Elena's okay, but Damon is the best, most wicked vampire in town, on Earth, like, ever, right?"

**a/n: sighs.**


End file.
